Meena is a good friend of mine. She is an LIC
officer earning a good salary. But there was always
something strange about her. She was forever unhappy.
Whenever I met her, I would start to feel depressed.
It was as though her gloom and cynicism had a way
of spreading to others. She never had anything positive
to say on any subject or about any person.
For instance, I might say to her, ‘Meena, did you
know Rakesh has come first in his school ?’
Meena’s immediate response would be to belittle
the achievement. ‘Naturally, his father is a school
teacher’, she would say.
If I said, ‘Meena, Shwetha is a very beautiful
girl, isn’t she?’ Meena would be pessimistic. ‘When
a pony is young, he looks handsome. It is age that
matters. Wait for some time. Shwetha will be uglier
than anyone you know.’
‘Meena, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s go for a walk’.
‘No, the sun is too hot and I get tired if I walk
too much. Besides, who says walking is good for
health ? There’s no proof.’
That was Meena. She stayed alone in an apartment
as her parents lived in Delhi. She was an only child
and had the habit of complaining about anything and
everything. Naturally, she wasn’t a very pleasant
company and nobody wanted to visit her. Then one
day, Meena was transferred to Bombay and soon we
all forgot about her.
Many years later, I found myself caught in the
rain at Bombay’s Flora Fountain. It was pouring and
I didn’t have an umbrella. I was standing near
Akbarallys, a popular department store, waiting for
the rain to subside. Suddenly, I spotted Meena. My
first reaction was to run, even in that pouring rain.
I was anxious to avoid being seen by her, having to
listen to her never-ending complaints. However, I
couldn’t escape. She had already seen me and caught hold of my hand warmly. What’s more, she was very
cheerful.
‘Hey ! I am really excited. It’s nice to meet old
friends. What are you doing here ?’
I explained that I was in Bombay on an official
work.
‘Then stay with me tonight,’ she said. ‘Let’s
chat. Do you know that, old friends and memories
are precious and rare ?’
I couldn’t believe it. Was this really Meena? I
pinched myself hard to be sure it wasn’t a dream.
But Meena was really standing there, right in front
of me, squeezing my hand, smiling, and yes, she did
look happy. In the three years she had been in
Bangalore, I had never once seen her smiling like
that. A few strands of grey in her hair reminded me
that years had passed. There were a few wrinkles in
her face, but the truth was that she looked more
attractive than ever before.
Finally, I managed to say, ‘No Meena, I can’t
stay with you tonight. I have to attend a dinner. Give
me your card and I’ll keep in touch with you, I
promise.’
For a moment, Meena looked disappointed, ‘Let’s
go and have tea at least’, she insisted.
‘But Meena, it’s pouring.’
‘So what ? We’ll buy an umbrella and then go
to the Grand Hotel,’ she said.
‘We won’t get a taxi in this rain’, I grumbled.
‘So what ? We’ll walk’.
I was very surprised. This wasn’t the same
Meena I had known. Today, she seemed ready to
make any number of adjustments.
We reached the Grand Hotel drenched. By then
the only thought in my mind was to find out who
or what had brought about such a change in the
pessimistic Meena I had known. I was quite curious.
‘Tell me Meena, is there a Prince Charming who
has managed to change you so ?’ Meena was surprised by my question. ‘No, there
isn’t anyone like that’, she said.
‘Then what’s the secret of your energy ?’ I asked,
like Tendulkar does in the advertisement.
She smiled, ‘A beggar changed my life.’
I was absolutely dumbfounded and she could see
it.
‘Yes, a beggar,’ she repeated, as if to reassure
me. ‘He was old and used to stay in front of my
house with his five-year old granddaughter. As you
know, I was a chronic pessimist. I used to give my
leftovers to this beggar every day. I never spoke to
him. Nor did he speak to me. One monsoon day, I
looked out of my bedroom window and started
cursing the rain. I don’t know why I did that because
I wasn’t even getting wet. That day I couldn’t give
the beggar and his granddaughter their daily quota
of leftovers. They went hungry, I am sure.
‘However, what I saw from my window surprised
me. The beggar and the young girl were playing on
the road because there was no traffic. They were
laughing, clapping and screaming joyously, as if they
were in paradise. Hunger and rain did not matter. They were totally drenched and totally happy. I
envied their zest for life.
‘That scene forced me to look at my own life.
I realized I had so many comforts, none of which
they had. But they had the most important of all
assets, one which I lacked. They knew how to be
happy with life as it was. I felt ashamed of myself.
I even started to make a list of what I had and what
I did not have. I found I had more to be grateful
for than most people could imagine. That day, I
decided to change my attitude towards life, using the
beggar as my role model.’
After a long pause, I asked Meena how long it
had taken her to change.
‘Once this realization dawned’, she said, ‘it took
me almost two years to put the change into effect.
Now nothing matters. I am always happy. I find
happiness in every small thing, in every situation and
in every person.’
‘Did you give any gurudakshina to your guru ?’
I asked.
‘No. Unfortunately, by the time I understood
things, he was dead. But I sponsored his granddaughter
to a boarding school as a mark of respect to him.’
- Sudha Murthy
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